Book Review: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

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You won’t believe how this book hit me” energy.

So The Hunger Games, I must say Suzanne Collins really did something with this one. It’s one of those books that doesn’t just pull you into a world, it grabs you by the collar and says, “Look. Feel this. Don’t look away.” And honestly, I couldn’t.

From the very start, when Katniss volunteers for Prim, I felt this punch in my chest. Like, I actually had to stop reading for a second because it wasn’t just a dramatic book moment — it was so real, protective, and painfully human. You know when someone you love is in danger, and without thinking, your whole body just says “I’ll go instead”? That’s what it felt like. It didn’t feel like fiction at that moment. It felt like a mirror of the kind of love we’d all want to believe we’re capable of.

Then there is the Capitol. God. The manner in which Collins describes it, it is like a glittering, grotesque circus of money, power and self-aggrandizement against the backdrop of starving quarters, made me angry. Like, genuinely. I thought, this is not simply a dystopia. This is us. That is hyperbole, admittedly, but not by much.” I smiled at the weirdness of how Capitol people could be so preoccupied with costumes and parties, but it was a nervous smile. The more I considered it, the more it seemed to me that it is very close to the world we live in.

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The Games themselves? Terrifying. There is this part at the beginning, when the tributes are thrown in the arena and the bloodbath begins at the Cornucopia. I felt sick. Children killing children, and that it is being televised, people are applauding, it is dreadful. However, this is the thing: Collins did not simply write about violence. She had you feel the burden of each passing. Rue’s especially.

Rue. God, Rue. That part broke me. She wasn't peripheral, she was this delicate moment of innocence, of good, a moment of innocence that is so fleeting. And when she passed away, and Katniss lay flowers on her, I swear I could not breathe. I only sat there gazing at the page, not willing to continue it, because how do you continue after that? That is why this book sticks to you. It is not a show of survival but how much it costs.

And Peeta. Sweet, complex Peeta. The bread-boy. I liked how Collins wrote him, not as some kind of typical hero but as someone who was quiet, yet so strong and selfless. His affection to Katniss was so raw and authentic, that it did not have to be about love but a realization of Katniss, a view of her. And seeing Katniss conflict over what was real and what was performance in their relationship… that did me, too. And have we not all experienced times when we are not sure how to interpret whether or not someone is sincere in what they are saying or whether it is all part of the game of life?

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The thing that stayed with me the most was not so much the action, although there is loads of heart-thumping scenes. The silent passages were the best. Katniss flashback to her father Her tenderness toward Prim. The manner in which survival reduces everything to bare instinct and yet, the smallest acts of kindness, such as Peeta giving her bread or Katniss singing to Rue were acts of rebellion in and of themselves.

At the end when Katniss and Peeta threaten to eat the berries I was literally sitting there grinning like an idiot. Not because it was romantic (though it kinda was), but because it was defiance. It was the human race rebelling against this bestial order that wished to make them pawns. The Capitol fluttered. That is when I got goosebumps.

I would not have imagined how much the book would remain in me after I put it down. Days later I found myself thinking about the districts, about power and inequality, about the way we consume violence as entertainment. I even contemplated how much of our reality show society reminds me of Panem and that is a frightening thought. The Hunger Games did not only make me enjoy it but was something that made me feel uncomfortable in a way I could not get out of.

So yeah, it wasn’t just a good book. It was an experience. It made me laugh, made me cry, made me furious, made me hopeful. It reminded me how fragile humanity is — but also how strong.

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The last three images was gotten from web:

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